So, my last doctor’s appointment went a bit like this…
… 45 minute wait in the waiting area, which was as full as the Social Security office. I swear there were like two empty seats in the whole waiting area. That’s a shit ton… er… maybe that is an exaggeration an ass load of patients.
The wait was no fun, because my baby lives right under my diaphragm. The only comfortable way is to sit with my back arched which causes the top of the chair to cut into the top of my back. Meanwhile, my lower back is unsupported. My legs are swollen, so sitting lady-like in a comfortable position is also a challenge.
I thought I would strike up a conversation with the more pregnant girl next to me. I happened to be thumbing through Harpers Bazaar and there was a photo of a woman lying on her back sunning herself. “Wouldn’t you love to be able to lay like that again?” This could have scared the young woman who apparently laughed politely when my point was the inability to lay on ones back when pregnant. I asked her the typical questions that you ask a pregnant woman: “How far along are you? Is this your first? What are you having?” Only to not have any of the questions reciprocated. Fine, have fun sitting in silence.
Finally, I got weighed in and my blood pressure taken. Ha! only a three pound gain in a month! No, I’m not dieting. I gained the same amount the last time around only to gain 25 pounds in the last two months and no I did not eat more. As I’ve explained before, I’m a sweller. I retain large amounts of water much like a camel except my hump is not on my back. The tendons in my feet no longer show and the swelling is only in the beginning stages.
Then the nursing assistant guided me back to the patient room. I immediately pulled out the foot rest on the table and laid down waiting another several minutes. My doctor walks in and the first thing she says is, “No cankles, yet. But there is still time.” Cankles is how she diagnosed me the last time I was pregnant. Our conversation went from Cankles to Banana Hammocks. Yeah, that’s what we girls talk about to our doctors at our girlie appointments.
The more concerning thing was I couldn’t recall how many weeks pregnant I was, but she measured and dopplered me and said something about being almost 33 weeks. “Really? Where has the time gone?” On my calendar at home, I have my weeks written down. It seems that either she is wrong, which I’m not doubting her. OR, I was wrong. OR, I’m measuring three weeks larger than my original due date, because my child is going to be LARGE.
I like large babies, but the birthing the large baby part makes me a bit nervous. Being cut is not an option… only if it is necessary. I’m not saying I’m a naturalist. God made the people who founded the epidural procedure too. If someone offered me an epidural now, I would get one. I will walk into the hospital and immediately ask for my drugs this time. But I digress, I’m not keen on the C-section for two reasons: first off is our insurance does not cover what is called “routine OB care”. Whomever came up with this term should be beaten by a pack of pregnant women. There is nothing routine about being pregnant. WTF do you cover under this type of insurance, really? I will not go on, because I get upset. Our family cannot change the fact that our insurance changed to this sorry ass carrier “Golden Rule”… the rule is they have the gold by sucking out your gold. So, not only does our insurance NOT cover any of my OB visits, it does not cover the hospital fees and anesthesia. The price for a C-section is DOUBLE that of the vaginal delivery. Now, if something is wrong and it is necessary I’ll get cut. My other reason for not wanting the C-section is not wanting to have my abdominal wall cut. It just seems like a painful recovery. I have many friends who have had C-sections and recovered just fine and probably better than what I went through with my first birth. I will not get into specifics, but I will say that I still had stitches.
Now, I’ve got to visit my doctor every two weeks.